𝟎𝟑𝟖. 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐲

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MY BIG BROTHER, SAMMY
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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chapter thirty-eight, season two

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chapter thirty-eight, season two

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[ tw: lot of sadness ]

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𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟎𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟏
―୨୧⋆ ˚ MARLEY'S POV

𝐈 𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐃. He's been scribbling down sentence after sentence for the past hour, and I've been trying to distract myself by watching cartoons, but I secretly really want to know what he's writing.

The heating in our motel room is broken, and I'm currently shivering under the ridiculous thin sheets that cover the bed. Sam seems fine which I hate because he should also be just as cold as me, but he isn't.

I click my tongue, my hands hitting my knees. "Say whatever you want to say, Mar." Busted.

"I'm cold." I shiver for dramatic effect, but I genuinely am freezing. We're outside Michigan in the middle of nowhere while Dean and Dad handle a case nearby, and I bet they're sitting in somebody's warm, heated house while me and Sam freeze our asses off.

Sam leans down, retrieving something from his bag. "Come here." I do as told, swinging my legs off the bed to sit on the bed next to me that he's situated on. He pushes a hoodie into my hands, and I smile like I've been giving a million dollars. "Put that on."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine." He shrugs, but I feel guilty nonetheless. I don't want him to be cold, not when he offered me his only hoodie that is so, so soft.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, coming up with an idea. I step off the bed to retrieve my crappy, thin bedsheet. Sam doesn't question me as I pull it back towards his bed, and I throw it over his shoulders, pulling it around his arms.

I smile in satisfaction. "There. You won't be cold anymore."

He chuckles. "Thanks, Mar."

I settle back against the bed frame, my knees pulled up to my face and my bare feet tucked under the covers. I peer over at Sam who is hitting his pen against the notepad, and I see that he's got his thinking face on── the face he pulls whenever he's concentrating.

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